


your touch is beyond my fingertips

by notthebigspoon



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah. Not that I expected it to last. Ever hook up with a guy knowing he's kind of hot for someone else but not caring because hey... he's fucking gorgeous and you have to have him?”</p><p>Title taken from How Do I Get There by Aaron Pritchett.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your touch is beyond my fingertips

Brandon doesn't know what's going on. Pence, who is usually a pretty cheerful guy, has his head hanging and his shoulders are up around his ears. Any attempt to speak to him is met with a mumble and shake of the head. More than once he's asked if he's okay and before long he shuts down completely, not answering even when spoken to. There's a shadow of unease and concern running through the team but there's nothing they can do to help him if he won't talk to them.

Brandon feels like he should be doing more, which makes no sense at all. He's friendly with Pence, sure, but they're not _close_. Pence tends to spend more time with the other outfielders than he does with anybody else. Brandon wishes he had something to say. Pence should never look that sad. Brandon wants to be the one to make him smile again.

He's not playing tonight. He spends the game cracking his gum and trying to think of a reasonable excuse to get Pence alone and see what's wrong, if there's anything that he can do to help. He doesn't know what makes him ask Lincecum what he thinks. Lincecum stares at him before shrugging and gesturing at nothing in particular. He's gotten useless since he and Posey dropped the posturing and finally started sleeping together. Ultimately, it's Weezy that gives him the boost he needs, when he tells Brandon to go after him and just ask already if it's so damn important. Good enough for Brandon.

After the game and the post game press, Brandon asks if Pence wants to grab a drink. Pence looks startled but shrugs helplessly and nods, like he doesn't really care if he's around someone or not. Brandon doesn't take it personally, it's more than anyone else has gotten out of him and he'll take the win when he can get it.

They go to Brandon's favorite bar and settle into a booth with beers, shots and a bowl of hot wings. Pence smiles at Brandon, just the tiniest bit, and it makes him feel warm all over. He does not have a crush on Hunter Pence, he does not.

And maybe pigs can fly.

“So what's going on?”

“I'm guessing you're not asking about my life in general.” Pence answers, picking at the basket of cheese fries. When Brandon shrugs, he just smiles faintly. “I got dumped. It happens.”

“Yeah, kind of know how that feels.” Brandon says, making a face. Pence gives him a questioning look. “I got left at the altar two years ago.”

“Ouch. I just got dumped over the phone.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah. Not that I expected it to last. Ever hook up with a guy knowing he's kind of hot for someone else but not caring because hey... he's fucking gorgeous and you have to have him?” Hunter is actually laughing a little now. “Might have been a little fan worship there too. Maybe he knew that, I don't know.”

“Wasn't it weird to date a fan though?”

“He wasn't the fan, I was. Ask him.”

And isn't that interesting? Brandon can't stifle the huge grin on his face and the sudden, rabid curiosity. Pence appears to recognize the expression and kicks Brandon under the booth. He doesn't look irritated though.

“Who was it?”

“Bite me rook.”

“C'mon, spill.”

Pence stare at his hands, cheeks bright red before finally muttering, “Tom Hiddleston. It was only two months but... well, it was nice while it lasted. I knew it wouldn't last but I was kind of hoping anyways. That make any sense?”

It does, actually, and Brandon can't help reaching out and squeezing his hand, offering up an apology. Pence startles but smiles slowly and nods, says thanks before attacking the bowl of chicken wings again. They spend hours eating bar food, trading stories about their exes and family and misadventures with teammates current and former. He gives Pence a ride home, tries not to be too much of a smartass about the ridiculous scooter. At Pence's building, he shoves down the warm and fuzzies he gets when Pence squeezes his shoulder and says thanks, that the night had been exactly what he needed.

On the way home, Brandon sings along with the radio and considers the repercussions of going after a guy on the rebound. Fuck Tom Hiddleston, whoever the hell that is. Brandon is going to make Hunter Pence his own.


End file.
